


An Unexpected Boy Comes

by Gindriden



Category: Bim Taylor - Fandom, Captain Triggers - Fandom, Nigel Wilde - Fandom, Wings 1977
Genre: Bisexual Father/son, Bisexual Male Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:23:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gindriden/pseuds/Gindriden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Risking discreet one night stands within an extended circle of male London friends, Triggers is troubled to find that his brusque approach to liaisons may no longer be enough to keep the emotions of a proper relationship at bay.<br/>The unexpected arrival of a young boy on his doorstep, vulnerable and in need of medical attention, brings out a deep compassion in Triggers not felt since he took Alan Farmer under his wing - a complete contrast to his usual lustful interest in young men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Boy Comes

It was early when he awoke and he knew exactly why. The door to the downstairs passage was being closed carefully and quietly and its distinctive click echoed up the stairwell to the bedroom that Triggers had occupied since a teenager. It was a noise that he knew all too well and it brought him to an instant consciousness.   
He realised that Nigel must have heeded his warnings and left early so as to avoid the necessity of any false pleasantries between them after the event. This slightly irritated Triggers as, in his opinion, and quite unexpectedly, he they had spent a truly enjoyable evening in each other's company - dinner at Claridges after leaving Bim's and then home to finish a rather good bottle of brandy. He sighed and turned onto his back, the movement causing him acute pain in his upper leg. In company he never drew any attention to his injuries but alone he grimaced.  
For a while he lay thinking about the night before, smug that it had all been so easy with Nigel. Eventually he reached for the stick propped up against the bedside table and used it to manoeuvre himself to his feet.   
His disabilities made washing and dressing harder but he completed them slowly and finally turned on the light over the wash basin to shave using the same ivory handled razor that had accompanied him everywhere since puberty. Flushing the water away and drying his face with a small towel which he then discarded impatiently, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. For an instant he saw an expression strangely brighter than he had noticed for a long time and he turned the light off quickly with this observation. Damn Nigel for knocking him off his guard like this - he vowed that he would not let it happen and limped off heavily down the passage towards the kitchen to sort out some breakfast.  
It was then that he heard the bang on the front door and for a second his heart jumped at the prospect of Nigel's return. He went downstairs and opened the door cautiously but instead of Nigel there was a boy, possibly around fourteen or fifteen. He was leaning against the wall coughing and barely able support his weight but he tried to straighten up when the door was opened and stumbled forwards. Triggers caught him awkwardly in surprise.  
Perhaps it was something to do with the events of the night before that had softened him but a few minutes later and without hesitation, Triggers found himself carrying the boy upstairs and laying him on his bed.  
The boy was quite obviously sick. Triggers knew that Doctor Baines would come straight away when summoned as he had come to the flat on numerous occasions to administer morphine when the pain from Trigger's leg became unbearable and indeed within ten minutes of his phone call the rather gruff individual was standing in the bedroom.  
Nobody could have been more surprised than he, however, to find a young boy, barely conscious, laid out on Triggers' bed.  
"Who is he?" the Doctor asked  
" I haven't the faintest idea" Triggers replied irritated at this question" He presented himself on my doorstep and that's all I know" Triggers sensed that the doctor might not be believing him.  
"Looks to me like he's been sleeping rough "if I were you, I'd call the police, let them sort it out."  
Triggers did not like the idea of this and worried whether his evening with Nigel would somehow be discovered.  
"Thank you Doctor, " he hesitated, "but there'll be no need for that. I'd feel happier if he stayed here for now. I'd be grateful if you'd treat him."  
The Doctor looked hard at Triggers, he was a strange one , that was for sure, but he decided not to probe further and knew that his bills would be covered without question.  
"Very well then." Triggers left the Doctor to examine the boy and about ten minutes later he met him in the passage, pulling the bedroom door behind him.  
"Bronchitis. Make sure he's kept warm and let him sleep - I'll be back tomorrow"  
Triggers showed him out and then returned to the boy. The bedclothes seemed to swamp him and made him look even slighter than Triggers had first observed. Maybe this was a mistake, he thought to himself but he felt drawn to help.   
He carefully removed the boy's shirt so as to make him more comfortable. The beauty of his juvenile body did not escape Triggers. His limbs were lean and his adolescent skin, despite filthy was smooth to touch. He pulled the covers gently back over him. It seemed like a gift from above but strangely Triggers did not lust after this young boy in the same way that he had done for Nigel.   
The boy was hot and restless with fever and Triggers was sufficiently concerned to sit with him for most of the rest of that day. He tossed and turned, sometimes calling out in what certainly sounded like French but by the evening he had settled into a calmer sleep. Triggers eventually went to get himself supper and brought it back on a tray which he placed on the table. As he was drawing the curtains he was startled by a sudden voice from the bed.  
"What happened to your leg? Did you crash?"  
He turned to find the boy awake and watching him intently.  
Triggers laughed in disbelief at the clear English accent that he had just heard but was glad that the boy had spoken.  
" I was shot actually," he smiled wryly and then added "in the war."  
The boy continued to look at him but didn't say anything more.  
"So you're not French then?" Triggers enquired.  
The boy shook his head.  
"But you speak excellent English." Triggers praised him.  
The boy thought a bit about this before offering an explanation   
"My Mother was French but I learnt English from my step Father who was the school master in the village."  
This statement aroused Triggers' curiosity greatly but he decided that gaining the boy's confidence was more important at this stage and decided to leave the questions until later,   
"You'll need to wash - to get in the bath, I think." he rose and made towards the bathroom   
"Captain Triggers , Sir, I....." but before the boy could finish his sentence, Triggers had stopped abruptly and turned swiftly to face him. Nobody had referred to him by his rank since he had left the RFC and he could think of no reason why the boy should address him as such now.  
"What did you just call me?"   
The boy looked at him, startled by his ferocity and did not reply. Triggers returned slowly to the foot of the bed, his eyes narrowed in deep suspicion  
"Who are you are and why exactly are you here?"   
The question was direct and before replying the boy hoped that Triggers might already be thinking what he was about to confirm. He swallowed deeply and replied with a strength that he prayed might be recognised.  
"Sir, I am your son."  
Triggers continued to stare, the memories of Saint Marie crashing through his memory at high speed. He looked at the boy harder and then recognised the rich hazel eyes of the first and only girl he had ever touched.   
"Marie- Helene." He spoke her name out loud for the first time in fifteen years, not realising that he had even done so.  
"Yes, my mother, but she's dead now." The boy looked away, afraid to see the reaction on Triggers' face.  
Triggers could not believe the bad luck and the good fortune that had come out of the last twenty four hours.   
He walked to the window to buy some time to think. A son - HIS son and what a damned irony, he thought to himself but he liked the idea. Yes, he liked the idea a lot . He turned back.  
"So what's your name then?"   
"Owen, Sir"   
"Owen!" Triggers roared, throwing his head back at the bedroom ceiling and repeating the name as if he'd never heard of it before. The reaction did not disappoint the boy who recalled his Mother's descriptions of the Captain - tall, proud, handsome- he was certainly still all of those things- but also dangerously unpredictable.  
Triggers quickly suppressed this reaction, conscious that the boy might have expectations  
"Well then," he paused, not entirely sure what to say next and walked slowly back to the bedside "I'm very pleased to meet you". He offered his hand by way of a formal greeting and the boy returned the hand shake uncertainly, searching Trigger' s face for signs of what he might really be thinking.  
"So can I stay then?"   
Triggers smiled warmly for the first time at the boy,   
"I'm hardly going to turn my own son away."


End file.
